Sins of the Past
by Dlvvanzor
Summary: The alarm clock met an untimely death that morning at 4:30 when it had the audacity to try to awaken Mello. I, on the  other hand, had been up for hours. MxM, Matt POV, Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.**

**A/N: This is a short chapter fic. I don't know how many chapters, yet, but I'm guess it will be less than 5.**

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><p>The alarm clock met an untimely death that morning at 4:30 when it had the audacity to try to awaken Mello.<p>

I, on the other hand, had been up for hours. I was showered and dressed. I had dried my hair and eaten breakfast. I had my Pokewalker on my hip, filled with a level 19 Magikarp, soon to evolve at level 20 to the much less pathetic Gyarados. I had my PSP in my back pocket. I had laid out Mello's leather for him and made him a chocolate-intensive breakfast, which steamed merrily on our pathetic excuse for a dining room/coffee table.

I was ready. _So_ ready. And now, all I needed, _all I needed_, was for Mello to drag his ass out of bed and into some clothes (as much as I liked him naked), and to possibly cram some breakfast down his throat. He didn't even have to be mentally awake.

It was a testament to how much he loves me that he preceded with the ass-dragging at 4:32.

The thing was, I had been nine when I went to Wammy's. That's older than a lot of kids who go, so I have a very rare thing that very few people at the House have- memories of my life _before_.

Mello, for example, was admitted at two years old. He has one random memory and one photograph of his parents, and nothing else. Near has been there since he was a baby. He knows nothing at _all_ about his. And many of the other children are similar.

But not me. I was a very special case.

Now, the reason, fate-wise, that my parents died, was so that I could move from America to England, where Mello was- the same reason I was born a genius. I loved my parents, but I don't regret it; I exist because of Mello, _for_ Mello, and that's what's important.

So, I don't regret leaving everything behind.

But I do _remember_.

Specifically, I remember my third grade best friend, James.

"Why is it 4:30 in the morning," Mello demanded as he sat down to the breakfast I had made and proceeded to shovel it in.

"It was the cheapest flight."

"Couldn't you have just hacked us into two seats on some plane that doesn't leave at ass-o'clock in the morning?"

"Too risky. Fifteen years ago, yeah. But now security is too tight."

He grunted as a response- he was never articulate in the morning- and poked at some eggs. He wasn't showing it, but I could tell that he was at least a little bit excited. He would get to live vicariously. More than that, though, he was thrilled for me that I had randomly remembered James' last name and had been able to track him down from there. And that when I had contacted him, he had _remembered me._

"Why does he live in Maine? Could he _be _further away from us without being in a different country?" he complained good-naturedly. "And how does he remember _your_ sorry ass?"

He was at least awake enough to be teasing me. This was good.

"Hurry up."

"Was he your grade school sweetheart?" he asked, pushing his mostly-empty plate away, suddenly serious. "Do people have those?"

"No, Mello, to both of those questions."

"Oh." He frowned. For the man's brilliance, he was not at all well-versed in the lives of normal people. Not surprisingly.

"Are you done? Are you dressed? The cab is already here. I put our stuff in it. Come _on_."

"I'm done, I'm done," he insisted, picking up his plate. "Why are you even bringing me on this trip?"

"Because you wanna go. Plus, you know as well as I do that we can't survive more than a day without each other."

He grumbled, but it was true, so he just followed me into the cab.

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><p>If I didn't love him so much, I swear I would have murdered him on that plane ride. It was a little-known fact that he was afraid of heights- I know, right?- and he sat in his chair, stiff as a board, the entire time, jumping every time the plane made any kind of noise.<p>

But that's a story for another time.

When we landed, I dragged him out of the terminal, cursing security that James couldn't just meet us and pick us up from there. No, we had to find our way out of the airport and to the right door and the right car.

But, when we finally managed that, my old friend was exactly where he said he would be.

Blatantly disregarding the rules, James threw his car into park, flung his door open, climbed right out (ignoring the people honking and cursing), and rushed us. Before I was even sure it was him, arms were around me and a voice that was _almost_ familiar was speaking a hundred miles a minute.

I grinned, nodding a lot, trying to match this man with the boy I had known so long ago, and I could see it. He was still thin, still taller than me (it had always been a point of contention- I'd hoped it would have evened out over the years), and he still had that big, bright grin. His hair used to be brown, if I remember, but now it was chopped short, spiked, and bleached blond. My mind immediately supplied me with "blond Adam Lambert," a suggestion that I would definitely have to run by Mello later. He didn't used to look like that... all the piercings, black nail polish, eyeliner...

But that smile. It was definitely him.

"Can't even believe it. It's _so_ good to see you," I said sincerely, moving in for another brief hug.

He smiled, huge, and just stopped to look at me.

"You look exactly the same. Can't believe it. Mail fuckin' Jeevas, right here in front of me."

Mello's mouth dropped open. "Matt!" he hissed to me. "How does he know your-"

"Hey, you remember the government thing I told you about?" I said quickly. "I've gotta go by Matt now for secrecy reasons."

"Oh! Okay! Sorry, Mai...att."

"Also, we should probably get in your car before people start to riot."

"Good call! Okay, come on!"

I climbed in shotgun, Mello giving me a puzzled look before putting his hand on the door to the backseat...

"Hey, you! Hands off!" came James' voice.

"...What?" Mello asked, confused.

"Whoever you are, mitts off the car door. We're not hiring."

Yet another person who thought Mello was a prostitute! I would _sooo_ laugh in his face about this later.

"That's Mello. I told you I was bringing someone."

"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry! Shit this is awkward. I thought you were a hooker, ma'am. Um... come on in and we'll get going."

I couldn't stop laughing long enough to point out his continued error.

Mello really does love me. He was scowling, fuming, but he didn't say a word, when normally he'd go off on a full-out rampage upon being called _either_ of those things, let alone both within the span of a minute. And then talk in as deep a voice as possible until he got over it.

"So!" James said cheerfully when we were on the road. "I'm sorry about that first impression, Mello. If it makes you feel any better, you make a very hot and very badass prostitute. Is that real leather? How long have you and Mai... _Matt_ been together?"

I snorted with laughter, my seatbelt locking and almost choking me, anticipating the look on James' face when he heard Mello's distinctly not-female voice. Probably the manliest thing about him, not including his huge-

"Almost ten years."

"HOLY FUCK." James swerved but I was prepared for that and I grabbed the wheel, laughing almost too hard to correct the car.

"J-James," I managed, gasping for air between my laughter and the seatbelt, "I'd like you to meet my boyfriend, Mello, who is not a prostitute, despite appearances, and definitely not female."

Mello was smirking, legs crossed, looking out the window, clearly pleased with himself.

"Aaaand I'm an asshole. I am _so sorry_, man. You don't look like a chick. I mean, maybe a little at first glance, but I didn't get a good look at you and-"

"Believe me, he's used to it," I said, delighted, smiling innocently at Mello in the rearview mirror. He rolled his eyes in response. "This happens just about every time we meet someone new. I thought he was a girl when I first met him, too."

"Oh. Okay... so... he's not gonna shoot me, right?"

"Scary as he may be, even _he_ couldn't smuggle his guns through security."

"I _could_ have but you asked me not to," Mello pointed out.

"Okay, so, catch me up," James said. "What happened to you, man? You just disappeared on us one night." His voice went all sincere, and he glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, unwilling to take his eyes off of the crazy traffic for very long.

"Well," I started slowly, running my story through my brain one last time to make sure it was consistent, "as I said in my email, there's a lot that I can't tell you. But I _can _say that my parents were killed the night before I disappeared. Shot right in front of me. I didn't have any other family so it was looking like an orphanage for me. At some point during this whole thing, they gave me some kind of test which said I had a certain attribute that a particular governmental program involving children wanted. So they took me to a special orphanage in another country and I wasn't allowed outside contact. Which is why no one knew what happened to me."

"So it's pretty secret stuff, huh?" James asked, chewing on his lip.

"Extremely."

"Can you give me a general... like... genre?"

"Sci-fi," I lied easily. I had weaved as much truth into it as I could, but Wammy's rules- and his training- were absolute. I was physically incapable of revealing any truth about Wammy's House.

"You always _were_ a techie," James said agreeably.

"So I grew up there, with Mello and a bunch of others, training, until we were old enough to graduate and leave."

"That's super cool."

"What about you?"

He laughed. "Nothing compared to your Secret Agent Man/ Men in Black life. I grew up, went to school, went to college, dropped _out_ of college to be an actor. By the way? I've learned that I can't act. So now I'm back in school to get a degree in anything. It's looking like I'm going into marketing. I have a little apartment near the school, which is where we're going. It's already a little crowded with me and Mark there, but if you don't mind pushing two couches together it will probably be pretty comfortable."

"Is your roommate gonna have a problem with me bringing a boyfriend around?"

Mello groaned and punched the back of my seat.

"I think he'll be okay with it," James chuckled.

"I apologize for him," Mello said, leaning forward. "He's got no gaydar. You could have been wearing rainbows head to toe and he still would have had to ask me."

They both rolled their eyes, sharing a moment at my expense. At least they were bonding. I sighed a little, but Mello was right- I really _did_ have no gaydar. I'd never needed one. I never had to _find_ someone. It had always just been Mello.

Cute, right? I know.

"I'd call you oblivious, but I'm the one who mistook your boyfriend's gender, so you're getting away with it," James teased me. I laughed, and the car was filled with pleasant chatter for the rest of the half hour drive.

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><p>Instead of just going in, James rang the doorbell to his apartment. An enormous and extremely stupid-looking man opened the door, smiling when he saw James. Then he noticed me.<p>

"Hey guys."

"Mark, this is Matt, my friend from elementary school. Matt, Mark. My lover."

Mark furrowed his enormous brow, apparently trying to think. I had more than enough time to ponder how stereotypical this couple was. I mean, the little, cheerful femmy guy and the huge, thuggish and very-stupid lover? Oh well, if James was happy... and I was sure this guy had some redeeming quality of some kind...

Look, he had finally managed to form a thought! ...Okay that was mean.

"Didn't you say his name was-" The Incredible Hulk started.

James interrupted him hastily. "He has to go by a codename now. We're supposed to call him Matt."

"Okay. Nice to meet you, Matt. Come on in. Welcome home, James."

My old friend grinned and kissed the behemoth quickly, and I couldn't deny that Mark was looking at him the way I look at Mello. I was spoiled and I needed to get my head out of my ass. I was too used to being around people as smart as me and smarter. For all I knew, this man could actually have a level of intelligence that was completely normal and just _seemed _low to me because of my history.

Then Mello walked in, finally able to get through the door, and both the Mafia boss and the monster stopped dead.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.**

**A/N: I think this fic is going to be a total of either three or four chapters. The time it took me to update is not an indicator of the length of the story. XD**

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><p>I looked between them. Mark was easy enough to read. All that was on his face was fear, and from the way he kept almost glancing at James, it wasn't hard to tell who he was afraid for. He even shifted his weight so that he was blocking James from Mello's sight.<p>

Mello, conversely, was not at all easy to read, except that I knew him inside and out. His expression was much more complicated. I distinctly saw anger, hatred, and confusion. There may also have been traces of... discomfort? Like awkwardness?

James was doing the same thing I was, although I suspected he couldn't read Mello like I could. "Um... have you two met?"

"No," Mark said quickly.

Now more confusion was prevalent on Mello's face. Then he relaxed and nodded, and Mark nodded almost imperceptibly back.

Weird. I would have to ask Mello later.

James, uneasy but seemingly having taken Mark's word for it, had already moved on to suggestions about dinner. "Well, you're not from Maine, so I feel like we should have lobster... but it's a little pricey and I don't know your situation so..."

"It won't be a problem," Mello said, finally taking his eyes off Mark and putting on his best civilian face for James. Mark still looked scared shitless, but at least he was able to tear his gaze away from Mello.

What was going _on_?

"Okay! Then we'll go out for lobster tonight. Seven o'clock sound good? You've had a long flight; I imagine you'll want to rest until then."

Conveniently (and maybe to drag Mark aside to discuss what I was about to discuss with Mello?), James now left us alone. However, they were just in the next room, so we had to whisper.

I turned on Mello with both eyebrows practically in my hair, my most expectant look on my face.

"What the fuck?"

Expecting this, Mello said, "Mark was one of my Mafia guys." That made sense. Okay. That would certainly explain the fear. "He's one of the ones that went AWOL," he continued. That explained the fear in a whole new way. Mello did not like traitors and wasn't subtle about it. That's one of the reasons he hated himself so much for leaving me at Wammy's.

Instead of letting him dwell on this (which I knew he would if I gave him time), I said, "Why'd he go AWOL?"

Mello didn't answer that one immediately. "He broke my rules and didn't want to face the punishment."

"You had rules? ...What rule did he break?"

"He killed a kid," Mello said quietly. "Two kids, actually."

"He... killed two kids? _Why_?"

"I don't know. It didn't matter at the time. I only know he killed them and then disappeared. Totally fell off the map."

"Maybe it was an accident?" I asked hopefully. "Maybe they got caught in crossfire and he ran because he was scared you wouldn't believe him?"

"I wouldn't have believed him," Mello conceded. "And that's because it couldn't have been an accident. You didn't see the bodies, Matt. How do you shoot two people in the head six times each on _accident_?"

"I..." Actually, I didn't even have words for that.

"This man's a monster, Matt. Killing those kids wasn't the worst thing he ever did, it was just the first thing he did that would get him kicked out. He was one of the people I would dispatch if I needed someone tortured."

"I..."

"Also, full disclosure? In case this comes up later? I kind of fucked him. Long before you came after me."

"What?"

"I fucked a _lot_ of my guys, you know that," he said patiently.

"Right, but this one is now sleeping with my oldest friend!"

"I didn't really have a way to predict that, Matt." The patience that had previously been in his voice was wearing, so I backed off.

"So, he's scared you're gonna kill him now?"

"Probably," Mello said slowly. "I make myself very hard to forget. But I also think... that James doesn't know."

"...You're telling me that Mark never told his lover that he used to be in the _Mafia?"_

The door opened and we immediately began a conversation about something completely different. We were well-practiced at being sneaky, after all, since we had been together for five years at Wammy's without being caught, doing just about anything you can name.

Halfway through the word "hippopotamus," a voice interrupted us.

"Hey, um, guys?"

I turned to look like a normal human being does, but as soon as Mello identified the voice he lowered his center of gravity a bit, tensed and ready. This man really must have been... bad... if even Mello was (a little, tiny bit) afraid of him.

"Yeah, Mark?" I finally replied. Mello looked at me with ice in his eyes.

"Can I talk to him for a second?" He indicated Mello with his head.

He was kicking me out of this conversation. I didn't feel _too _ripped off because I knew Mello would just tell me everything anyway, but at the same time I kind of resented the implication.

"Yeah, sure," I said, trying to keep the crabbiness from his dismissal out of my voice, "I'll just go over here... um..."

"No, actually," Mello said monotonously. "Matt is staying right here. Unlike you," he set his eyes dead on Mark, "I don't have any secrets from the love of my life."

"That's... kind of what I want to talk to you about," Mark said hesitantly. "The fact that he doesn't know. James, I mean."

Mello looked bored, but I could tell that he was really listening closely. "Yeah?"

"Please don't tell him."

"Why shouldn't I? He's my lover's oldest friend. I have a responsibility to protect him, both for his happiness and, more prominently, for Matt's. Who are you to me?"

"We worked together for _years_. Doesn't that buy me anything?"

"You're a traitor and a monster to whom I have no loyalty. The fact that I didn't shoot you on _sight_ has already indebted you to me." Mello was breaking out his vocabulary and his sentence structure. Shit was about to go down.

"_Please_ don't tell him," Mark begged. Apparently he knew it, too.

"You have yet to supply me with a valid reason not to. Why shouldn't I kill you right here and now?"

That alarmed me a bit. Not gonna lie. I'd never actually seen Mello kill someone, and while I knew that it wasn't something he was unused to, it still wasn't a side of him I really wanted to see. And I knew _he_ didn't want me seeing it, either.

Mello tilted his head to the side a bit, eyes still glued on the older man. Waiting.

"Because... your lover's oldest friend loves me," Mark finally said. "I'm going to tell him someday. About all the things I did. I've told him I did _something_ awful, he just doesn't know who I worked for or what my job title was... or the reason I don't work there anymore."

"Why _did_ you kill those kids?" I piped up. Mello shot me a glare but I ignored him.

"I... I'm different now," he diverted. But he said it firmly. "I've changed. And part of the reason I've changed is _because_ of James. He won't leave me even when he finds out, because he already knows there's something horrible in my past and he _already_ loves me despite it. But please, _please_ just give me a little more time to tell him. I _have_ changed."

"Doubtful. People like you don't change."

"_You're_ different," Mark pointed out, giving Mello a long, long look. "You changed about halfway through the time I knew you. I'm guessing it's when you found Matt, here."

Mello didn't answer.

"So if you can be different, especially considering that you still do almost all the stuff you used to do, why can't _I_ be different when I've totally cut myself off from them?"

"I _never_ tortured people," Mello snapped.

Mark snorted. "No, you ordered _me_ to do it."

"You're the one who enjoyed it."

"_I've_ _changed!"_

"Fine. I won't tell him," Mello said abruptly. "Happy?"

Mark sighed in relief, shaking his head once, hard. "...Yeah. Thank you. This really means a lot to me. I swear, I'll tell him one day."

Mello all but rolled his eyes, although Mark probably couldn't detect it. "Sure thing."

Reluctantly, perhaps not completely believing him (as he certainly shouldn't), Mark kind of nodded and stiffly walked away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.**

**A/N: The length of time it took me to write this fic is not proportionate to the depth of it. XD I'm sorry if that was misleading. But, well... last chapter! XD Also, cheesy ending is cheesy.**

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><p>Needless to say, dinner was kind of awkward.<p>

Not for James, no. He had absolutely no idea that the other three of us were tense, which kind of terrified me a little. I can understand not being able to read Mello. I can also understand not remembering how to read me after so, so long. But not being able to read one's own lover?

Or maybe he was just really good at hiding it.

We did end up going out for lobster. Every time Mello opened his mouth Mark looked ready to tackle him if he so much as _inched_ the conversation in the direction of revealing him. I tried to focus on not cutting my hands open on the bits of shell and having a decent conversation with James, which wasn't difficult because he's possibly the most pleasant person on the face of the earth.

We got through it without incident, though, and that night James fussed over us, making sure Mello and I would be comfortable, kissed us both on the cheek, and went to bed, Mark close behind.

When I was sure he was out of ear shot, I whispered, "So you're not gonna tell him, then?"

"No, I'm definitely gonna tell him."

"Mello, you can't! You said you wouldn't!"

"Yeah. And he said he would follow my rules and not _kill_ _children _or go MIA."

"You can't do it. It would destroy James to not hear it from Mark himself. Plus, he said he's changed."

"Matt, he's a horrible person."

"So are you!" I whisper-yelled.

He didn't say a word but he looked at me steadily, unashamedly.

"Look," I said after a moment of us staring at each other. "Is he going to hurt my friend?"

Mello scowled, punching his half of the pillow to fluff it as I climbed into 'bed' next to him. "How should I know? No? I doubt it?"

"Then just leave it. He's_ done_. You saw him, he's _sorry. _Besides, I bet James already knows."

He snorted. "_You_ didn't know I was in the Mafia until I told you."

I raised an eyebrow. Because, duh, I had at least had a pretty accurate idea.

"Okay, fine. James probably knows. But would he really still be with him if he knew specifically that he had brutally murdered two children?"

"He loves him. I'd still be with _you_ right now."

Mello was silent, curled up on the couch, staring at me and trying to see my eyes through the darkness.

"Really? You would?"

"Yeah, Mel."

"Even if I had tortured people? Raped people?"

"I'd still love you."

"Funny," he said, and I felt his fingers moving a lock of my hair. "The reason I _didn't_ was because I thought, if I ever saw you again, that you wouldn't."

I smiled and burrowed closer to him, burying my face in his chest. "That's just part of unconditional love."

His arms came around me and he held me tight.

"So I'm not gonna tell him?"

"Correct."

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><p>Mysteriously, the visit went by without confrontation.<p>

Well, there were a few incidents with Mello's temper and innocent passersby, but these were largely ignored and even more largely laughed at by James (and not at all by Mark). Somehow, my oldest friend seemed to think Mello was kidding when he went on his more fearsome rampages, which served our purposes well. I'd like to stay in contact with James after this visit, and him hating or fearing Mello (like just about everyone else did) was not conducive to that.

So, besides the few terrified pedestrians that got a very stern talking-to, no one got confronted, much to my relief.

Before I knew it, it was time for us to go back to LA. Reluctantly (but honestly relieved to be on the way back to my games), I packed us up, saying my goodbyes to James and exchanging promises to meet up again.

"I'm sorry I can't drive you to the airport," James said for the umpteenth time. "I won't make it to work on time if I try it..."

"Totally fine," Mello cut in. He had never liked it when people repeated themselves. I was kind of impressed about how relatively polite of a response this was. "We're tough— we're from LA. We won't get mugged."

James laughed. "Okay, okay."

He and Mark saw us to the front door of his apartment building, then headed back up with one last wave. For a split second, when Mark and Mello's eyes locked, I was certain that Mello was going to spill.

But he didn't, and the split second passed, and the glass door swung closed behind us.

Taking to the streets, Mello and I walked in silence, lugging our baggage though the crowded sidewalks to where we would most easily be able to hail a cab.

Despite the fact that this was out of character for our relationship, I knew that it needed to be said.

"Thank you."

He looked at me for a second. Then: "He's a monster! He's the absolute scum of the Earth and you're just letting him fuck your oblivious best friend!" Mello exploded.

Ah, so he had just been holding it in.

"Do you know _how_ he killed them? I mean, it wasn't like he _just_ shot them in their heads. He _brutalized_ them. They were unrecognizable. You know what their mother said when she saw her children?"

"I..."

"I saw the bodies. I know I really did, because I couldn't have dreamed it up, because my _nightmares_ are prettier than that. You can't make this shit up. I couldn't have done what he did to _anyone_— not Kira, not the guy who killed my parents, not _Joseph-fucking-Stalin— _and Mark did it to two _kids_. A man like that does not deserve to live. Period."

I wasn't sure what to say to that.

"And to this damn _day_ I don't know why he did it. Why he did it like _that_, or why he did it at _all_. They were just two random children, seemingly completely innocent, and now they're dead for reasons I can't even begin to speculate on. Mark is a _monster_. He's a _monster_, and you're letting him fuck your best friend and you're not even doing him the courtesy of _telling_ h-"

"Okay, I get it," I interrupted. Worryingly, we weren't getting strange looks from the people we were passing despite the content of our conversation. "Look. What do we need to do? Do you really want to go back there and tell James? How do you have that talk? 'James, I can't tell you how I know this, but your lover is an ex-Mafioso and he tortured and killed two kids. Have a nice day at work, see you around.'"

"Yes. That's what I want to do."

I dodged a woman with a stroller; not an easy task considering the population density on this cement.

"Really. You want to walk up to him and just say that. Exactly that."

"If I have to! Dammit, Matt, would you just-"

"Boss!" someone shouted.

Mello's entire expression changed in a fraction of a second and he whipped around, instantly putting himself between me and the owner of the new voice.

He had taught me what to do in case this happened. Pretending I didn't even know the love of my life, I gave him a weird expression for spinning around and kept walking at a thoroughly unremarkable speed.

Conveniently, we were near a corner, so I just ducked around it and was still able to hear the proceedings.

"Tommy? The fuck are you doing here?" Mello said in a voice that was foreign to me. It was like ice.

"Same as you, Boss. Hunting down the traitor."

"I didn't order you to do that!"

"Rod did. Didn't he order you on this job, too?"

"Of course," he spat. "Why else would I be in this shithole? Whole fucking place smells like fish."

"That it does. But hey, man, good job finding Mark! Gonna go back for him tonight?"

Mello paused for a split second that I was certain only I noticed. "Obviously. Can't very well kill a man in broad daylight in his apartment in front of his lover."

"Lover?" Tommy said, sounding genuinely surprised. "Mark's a faggot now?"

"Just another reason to wipe him out," Mello 'confirmed,' and damn that must have hurt him to say.

"Good, good. Then I guess I'll head back to LA. You don't need me and I wouldn't want to get in your way."

"Yeah, you go."

Neither of them said anything for a moment and I assumed that Tommy started to head away. Then Mello said, "Actually, come with me first. I wanna get your opinion about something."

Uh-oh, there was gonna be blood.

"Sure, yeah. Where to?"

"Just follow me."

I dived into an alley, knowing what Mello would do now, and I was right. He had counted on me to be listening and to know to get out of sight, because he was leading Tommy around the corner I had just been hiding behind. He glanced into the alley I was in, seeing me but keeping his face totally impassive, and kept going, his stride all power and confidence.

As a side-note, this was a really nasty-smelling alley.

After checking my immediate area for rats or spiders, I faintly heard Mello say, "Here, yeah. I stashed it behind that dumpster..."

Silence for a few long moments. I held my breath...

Unnecessarily, of course. This was _Mello_. It wasn't long before he was in my alley, rejoining me, looking none the worse for the wear, not a speck of blood on him.

"I thought you didn't have a gun?"

"I don't need a gun to kill someone, ass," he replied mildly.

"What are you gonna tell Rod Ross?"

Mello didn't miss a beat. "Tommy went rogue. I found him fucking his supposed target and took the opportunity to kill them both."

"You found them _fucking_?" I laughed.

"I did," Mello said sagely. "In an alley. It was the most disgusting thing I've ever seen. They deserved to die just for that."

Trying to get my real point in before I got caught up in the artificial conversation, I said, "Thank you for protecting Mark."

"By killing him for being a gay traitor?" he asked, trying to sound confused.

"Yes, by killing him for being a gay traitor. I hear the guy who used to be his boss isn't quite that forgiving, so you probably did him a favor."

"Well, he did say he'd changed. Couldn't very well let that psycho in the leather hunt him down and kill him _his_ way."

"You're so merciful."

"I _am_, aren't I? But I didn't really do it for Mark. I did it for Mark's lover's oldest friend. You probably don't know him"

"I haven't, but I've heard he's brilliant, painfully handsome, and great in bed."

"Eh," Mello shrugged.

I punched him in the arm and he rolled his eyes. "I need to teach you how to actually punch."

"Shut up."

"You know, you're really high-maintenance. Most guys just have to get their boyfriend chocolate or flowers or something. I had to actually kill someone for you."

"Yes, but the sex you're gonna get when we get home tonight will make up for it. Remember? I'm brilliant, painfully handsome, and great in bed?"

"Speaking of which, did you see us this weekend? We totally kept our hands off each other for, like, several days in a row."

"I know. I'm pretty proud of us."

He replied with something witty and we fell into a comfortable routine. It was times like these that were my favorite with him. I loved him _all_ the time, of course, but this was something special. He wasn't like this much— so normal that it actually made my brain hurt a little bit. To see someone as intense as him actually approaching relaxed? Happy?

I loved that he could still make my brain hurt after so many years.

The man would literally kill for me. He would also _not _kill for me, and he had and would drag himself out of bed at 4:32 in the morning to fly across the country just so that I could go see an old friend he had no interest in meeting.

If all I had to deal with to get _that _were some of his old sins and a few sharp shards of plastic from clocks being thrown across the bedroom and into the wall, then it was so much more than worth it.

"Hey," I nudged him. "Remind me— when we get home, we need to get a new alarm clock."


End file.
